


Evidence of Us

by kouris (darkponds)



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, In case you were wondering, M/M, links on meds lmao, roadtrip au, soulmates au if you squint, this is a love story by default
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 05:16:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12269649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkponds/pseuds/kouris
Summary: let's say theydoget reincarnated. forever and ever. even now, there's a version of them out there somewhere wondering why there's no more hyrule left to save. wondering why prescriptions don't change the way they look at the world and stop the shake in their hands. wondering why no matter how hard they try, it seems they cant live up to what the rest of the world is expecting them to do.roadtrip au that assumes that link and sheik are reincarnated all the way up to modern times. they have dreams about their past lives.





	Evidence of Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saghilarious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saghilarious/gifts).



> this came to me when i got a flat tire in the desert. the only difference is that link's vehicle is clearly cooler than mine.
> 
> also, this plays off of male!sheik. the concept that sheik bears his own consciousness separate from zelda's is present in this fic.

The sun is almost in his eyes, but not quite. he's been driving for a while now but he's not entirely sure how long it's been. He doesn't know how much further is it to a gas station. He hasn't seen a sign in hours. Directional or otherwise. It's been one, long, ongoing road. It's not too hot. And thank fuck for that because he's pretty sure the AC needs a quick fix of coolant because at this point it's just blowing out not-cool air. 

Blowing out hot air. It amplifies all the intrusive thoughts. He got out for a good reason, that's what he's telling himself. That it was a really good reason. he's just trying to think of different things he can say to justify this when it all falls apart. But you can't just justify running away with words. Because he's already done it. And that in itself speaks louder than any well composed excuse. 

He wonders if they even care, if they're angry or furious or anything really. If there's anything that changes from the apathetic expressions and permanently furrowed eyebrows.  

They do their best with him. But just because someone does their ‘best’ doesn't mean that it's good enough.  

Link knows that better than anyone.  

He knows that if he studies really,  _really_ hard for a test he'll pass with a C. He knows that if he runs the fastest and kicks the hardest in gym, he'll still get picked last for field hockey day. He knows if he does everything he's asked and more at work, there will  _still_  be  _something_  that isn't quite up to par. He gets eye rolls and scoffs. He gets people disregarding him. He gets people expecting a whole lot, but not seeming quite willing to give anything in return. Even a “good job Link,” would work. Nothing though. Nothing at all. He supposes he's made peace with that.  

When he gives someone something, he doesn't expect to have it back. That's fine if he doesn't. He just wished everyone else thought like that too. 

And he's sick from it. Sick in the head from it. Because the world isn't right. Because how can a world where everyone is on autopilot be right? He likes to sleep. He  _loves_  to sleep because it puts him somewhere where he doesn't have to think about it all. His mind paints a lovely picture when he puts him head down.  

It's not always pleasant, but it's always important. He dreams that he's someone important. That he's someone who tips the scale and makes things happen. he's not full of himself or anything but he doesn't think it's a crime to want to  _matter._   

he's tried making friends and confiding in them, but that plan always seems to fall short. he's just falls into the never-ending trap of having to cater to someone constantly who doesn't want to give you the same attention that you give them. Plus being 17 apparently warrants every one of your age to be a complete tool. It doesn't make it any easier.  

He finds comfort in things that he knows are true. And right now, he doesn't actually know what that is. He’s confused himself by running away. He can't remember what it was he was trying to accomplish by this. And his ginormous VW isn't exactly fuel efficient. He doesn't know what he's doing. As fucking always, he doesn't know what he's doing. 

But god, he  _does._  He  _does_ know what he's doing. But no one seems to get it. It's like he's on a different page of the book than everyone else.  _No,_ scratch that. he's an a completely different  _volume._ He’s trying to piece together what the  _point_ is while everyone else seems to just  _go along with it._  

He figured he's being awfully vague, even in his own head. He turns up the radio, trying to block out the mental static. But it doesn't count for much considering the radio has just as much static. He speeds up down the road. It'll be okay. He just needs to  _stop_ thinking about what everyone thinks and think about what he needs to do to not feel like he's here on this planet for a  _really_ good reason but also no reason at all. He knows that doesn't make a whole lot of sense but it makes enough sense. 

He wonders if they've called a search party yet. He sure hopes not. It hasn't been long enough to get the police involved. But he's far enough in the basin that they won't go out this way. No one would expect him to take this camper all the way out here. they'll look west. He always goes west.  

But not this time. there's quite few things he didn’t do this time actually. Like check how many gas stations there are on the route. He’ll wing it. It’ll be totally fine. He's too sure of himself about this to get psyched out by the frequency of gas stations when he still has more than a half tank.  

He changes the station and squints as the sun starts going down over the horizon. The sky is a color for famous photographs. It makes him regret none of this for a second. He rolls the windows down. He hopes he packed a comb somewhere in his duffel, because the wind is not his friend when it comes to knots.  

He's suddenly glad he's reverted back to less pressing concerns. He thinks maybe his thoughts are centering finally.  _Maybe._  

he's still got a good half hour before daylight quits on him. He'll have to pull off the road and pull out the bed.  

He’s lucky his parents were adventurous, otherwise he's not sure they would've left him the camper. He guesses he knows where he gets it from. He still doesn't know who he gets skipping town and running away from. 

He can't be the only one. He's sure there's others who run away too. If you're not happy, change it? Right? Link is old enough anyway. He hopes he’s thinking with a healthy level of optimism. it's hard to tell on the meds. They're not like  _heavy_ meds. They focus on your school work crap, like sitting still for long periods of time and remembering stuff and not needing coffee like  _ever_. Sometimes he’s not sure they work. 

The camper hits a bump. He was zoning out on the road. He thinks he sees someone in the distance. They look small from here but he tries not to approach too quickly. They look like they need help. He turns on his dims and slows down.  

The hood is open and there’s a girl leaning over it, looking back at Link climb down from his vehicle. She's pretty. He thinks. 

“Need help?” he asks simply, not jumping to assume she can't handle herself but only trying to help someone that might be in need. 

“I hope you're a better mechanic than me.” They say jokingly and whoa, hey, not a girl. Their voice is deep and their chest is beyond flat. Link registers that after a few blinks and refocusing on this person's features. 

He's wearing plain old jeans and sneakers and a dark blue pullover hoodie that looks a little small. His hair is a pale blonde and  _really_ long. Now that he's up close this person is  _clearly_ masculine and long hair does  _not_ _automatically_  equal girl. Dumb. Link is dumb. 

“I uh. I might be. what's wrong with it?” 

“Engine lights on.” He steps back and pushes his hair off his face and back through his fingertips. Link reminds himself not to stare. “can't go past 25 miles per hour with stalling. And now it won't even start.” 

This guy looks like he knows something about something. Just not cars. 

Link isn't a mechanic. Not officially anyway. But cars are machines. They don't think or feel. They are only controlled. So, they're easy and simple. Nothing like people. He just tinkers around until something happens. It works half the time. 

He asks him test start it, and once he hears the noise it makes he goes for the spark plugs. 

“Sounds like a misfire. One or more cylinders aren’t firing.” 

He smirks. “And it means?” Link doesn't think there's anything to smile about, this guy is quite literally up shits creek without a paddle. This car isn't going anywhere. 

“I don't know how you got this far, but basically the there isn't enough power to start your engine. Until you get new plugs.” 

“Translate.” He chimes sheepishly. 

“Unless there's a hidden auto parts mart in the middle of the basin, this car isn't starting.” 

The stranger hums and strides over to slam down the hood. He places his hand over the hood and lets it sit for a second. He seems irregularly calm. 

“Do you have a phone?” he asks without looking at Link. 

“No…” he's never needed one. Work always called his uncles landline. 

He sits for a moment longer, almost looks like he's going to cry right over the hood of his Vauxhall. Then he breathes in.  

He's looking at Link again, recomposed.  

“Can I get a ride?” 

His first thought is to  _where??_  Because they're smack dab in the middle of the great basin and there is positively nowhere to be for at least 700 something miles unless he turns around which he is also  _not doing._  

“Where?” he asks, taking a chance. 

“Anywhere but here.” He chokes out in a laugh. 

And now Link thinks he gets it. It seems he was right. He’s not the only one running away.  

“How's north?” Link asks. 

The stranger pulls out a duffel bag and throws it over his shoulder. Then two large gas cans from the trunk of the Vauxhall and puts them down in front of Link like a consolation. 

“North it is.” 

 

* * *

 

“What's your name?” the stranger inquires. “are we doing names?” 

“Link.” He laughs. 

He thinks that he sees a strange expression on his face in his peripheral vision. He can look away from the road for a moment. There's no one out here but them. He looks like he has something to say, but doesn't know what or why. 

“and you?” Link breaks his trance. 

“Sheik.” 

“That's a weird name.” Link says automatically, assuming he won't offend easily. He doesn’t seem the type. “what's it mean?” 

“It means... teacher of things.” He says flatly, eyes shifting. 

“That's very… scholarly.” And he can't believe he just said that because,  _scholarly?_  

“well…” Sheik starts challengingly, “what does Link mean?” 

“From the river bank.” He says. Silence follows. “it's like Latin – or welsh or... something.” 

It’s getting awkward so he flips the radio on but his hand trips a little and suddenly the static is  _blasting_.  

“ _shit.”_  

He turns it off. The silence is back.  

Link likes this person but he hasn't done anything in particular to make him like him.  _Teacher of things_ _._ Yeah, he supposes he can see that. He seems like the kind of person you could learn something from. He seems accepting, like he accepts whatever happens. It explains that weird bonding moment with his car.  

But it doesn't explain why he's running away. 

“Why are you running away?” Link asks suddenly in the ring of the quiet. 

Shirk laughs a melodic laugh. It's short and breathy and it makes him take his eyes off the road again. 

“I’m not. I- I'm nomadic.” 

“I’m sorry, you're what?” Link asks, trying not to sound rude.  

“I’m nomadic. I travel. I don't stay in one place.”  

“Well- where’s base?” Link doesn’t know if he worked that properly. 

“Uh- well, I have an aunt in Nebraska. She’s… weird. Tells me I can stay as long as I want but she makes me uncomfortable sometimes.” He sounds like he’s trying to make light of it and like, laugh maybe? But it comes out choppy. He sounds tired. 

Link is tired too.  _Really tired._  He only wants to drive for a bit longer and then he needs sleep. He’s not sure how that's gonna go down with an extra body on board. He tries not to be awkward.  

“What about you? Why are  _you_  running?” 

“I didn’t say I was running.” He doesn’t wanna have to whine about his problems to someone who might just roll their eyes at him and remind him of all the people who are worse off than him. He’s sick of hearing stuff like that. 

“No, but you asked me why I  _was._ Which sort of implies that you’re doing exactly that.” He’s got this odd wisdom to his voice. It should come off condescending but it doesn’t. his words are smooth like he’s easily pulling the truth out of Link. 

“I guess I… don’t understand why anyone does anything. Or what anyone wants. Like, from me?” He’s trying not to sound like a head-case. “Or what the hell I’m doing with my life.” He takes a breath. “I don’t- I don’t know. I’m still sorting that bit out.” It's too many topics at once for someone like him. 

Sheik hums thoughtfully in response. “And where’s  _your_ base?” 

“Four hours back that way.” He points behind him. 

“With your parents or?”  

“N-no, they – they died.” He says, trying not to sound too strained. It's been so long. He should be able to say it regularly now. 

“Oh.” 

“I lived with my aunt and uncle.”  

Link clears his throat before Sheik can say something like  _I’m sorry to hear that._ But it doesn’t seem like he was going to anyways. 

“What about you?” Link asks. 

“What, my parents?” 

Link nods. 

“Oh I- I never knew them.” He mumbles. 

“Oh.” 

They seem to be saying that a lot. Link tries to ignore that. It looks like they’re on the same page of the book. Link thinks this chapter's title should be  _Loner-_ _ville_. 

He pulls off the road and stops the car. His hands shake when he pulls off the wheel. He sees sheiks gaze resting on his shaking hands. It makes him feel a little raw. 

“Sleep?” he asks sheik. 

“Yeah. You seem like you need it.” He says quietly as his eyes flicker across Links features. 

Sheik follows him to the side of the camper and Link slides open the side door. He shuffles past some boxes of books in his way and lights the lantern on the table with a nearby matchbook. Sheik watches with complete interest at this nighttime routine of his. He moves the lantern on top of what looks like an ice box in-between the cupboards. 

He pulls up the table and bench-like seats in an easy fold and hooks them into the wall.  

The couch pulls out and now it makes sense what he’s doing. 

“There’s only one bed. So, you can sleep here if you want. I can just crash up front.” Link mumbles, trying to be hospitable. 

“I don’t need a bed.” He says. “You take it. it’s your camper.” 

“No way.” Link furrows his brows, “besides, you gave me gas.” 

“You gave me a ride.” He quips. 

“Just- take the bed. Please.” 

Sheik sighs. “Okay.” 

They part ways without another word exchanged between them. 

 

* * *

 

Link settles in the front seat of the camper trying to think about the person on the other side of the wall. He needs to fall asleep, so he should pretend he’s alone.  

He can’t help but wonder where Sheik is going through. Maybe he’s going nowhere at all. Maybe he was lying and he actually  _is_ running away _._ But then again, he didn’t really seem like the lying type. After all, didn’t people feel more inclined to tell the truth when there was a stranger around to tell? 

He tries to get comfortable, but he’s used to the bed. The seat is comfortable for driving but not sleeping. He fluffs his pillow and slouches to the side, hoping for a wave of sleepiness.   

He thinks of green pastures. He sees himself running in the early morning. He thinks of that place, his favorite one. The one he always dreams about. Sometimes it’s a little different than the last. Sometimes there’s new places or new people, but he’s always himself. Or maybe it's a different version of himself. One that's better.  

He's practiced falling asleep with these thoughts. Just to be sure that he dreams of that place. Sometimes the things that happen there are out of his hands, but that’s what keeps it exciting for him. He feels himself drifting off with a slightly troubled feeling in his gut. He doesn’t feel like he has a lot of control right now. 

He falls down. 

 

* * *

 

 **_It's dark for a moment, but he can still smell the crispness of the ice in the dark room. The space is small. It took him a long time to get here. He's not sure why but he needed something from here. He lights the_ ** **_torches that he detected in the dull atmosphere and the light catches and flickers. The room suddenly glitters. The ceiling has a sparkle to like the sky can be seen through it as clear as glass._ **  

 **_He sees what he came for on the far side. The air feels thick. He's not alone. He turns around swiftly to find a masked figure with red eyes. They step forward._ **  

 **_"It's_** ** _you." He says._ **  

 **_"_ ****_Tis_ ** **_I." They say, smile detectable in their tone of voice._ **  

 **_He gives Link a riddle that doesn’t seem_ ** **_entirely relevant at first. But then it suddenly makes sense. It's paired with a certain melody in his head as he sees the redness of those eyes boring into his own. Its meaning rings through the silence of the air and quiets_ ** **_the racing thoughts that run_ ** **_through his mind._ **  

 **_The words break the confusion. They break the_ ** **_loneliness_ ** **_. They break the solitude. They break the fear that constantly seems to_ ** **_plague_ ** **_him._ **  

 **_They vanish. He breathes. Link will wait. He'll see that person again._ **  

 

* * *

 

Link wakes up feeling disoriented. The sun is barely peaking up over the mountains. He blinks, then stretches. He laughs darkly as he feels the crick in his neck when he sits up. His pillow abandoned him through the night.   

He recalls his dream almost immediately with a small smile on his face. He doesn’t dream about that person very often, but he likes when he does. But it was kind of strange this time. Whenever they appear it was usually far away. They have to speak loudly to properly converse. But this time... they were so close to him. And it was so  _vivid_. He feels he was left hanging a little.  

He hopes that tonight, they make another appearance. 

 

* * *

 

He pulls open the side door of the camper and Sheik is up already.  

"Goodmorning." Link chirps, and goes for the ice box. He pulls out two green apples that are slightly bruised. He turns around and tosses one over to Sheik. He catches is with ease in a smooth motion. 

"Morning." He replies.  

Link takes a bite, staring out the door at the desert, still deep in thought about the dream. He tries not to look at Sheik but it's clear that Sheik is looking at  _him._  

 _"_ You alright?" Sheik asks him. 

"Yeah." Link says, a comfortable feeling washing over him, "Weird dream." 

Sheik seems really easy to talk to. More laid back than anyone he's probably ever met. They haven't talked much, but in a way, he exudes a relaxed persona. 

Link thinks he hears him laughing. Sheik gets up and stretches at the foot of the bed. Link averts his eyes, telling himself not to _stare._  

"What's so funny?" He asks him, mouth full of apple. 

"I bet you... that my dreams are weirder." He smiles lazily. 

Link seriously doubts that. 

**Author's Note:**

> song title is thanks to Pierce the veil for making me emo again yay
> 
> probably gonna be 3-4 chapters btw.


End file.
